Near Mint
by Omnia Vanitus
Summary: Part 1 of the Atonement Series. Agent Phil Coulson is still recovering from his lethal encounter with Loki, but when the god shows up again looking to atone will he be forgiving? WARNINGS: Slash, Spoilers from the Agents of Shield TV show.
1. Vicodin

Disclaimer: I do not own The Avengers or any of the characters thereof, but I do claim the creative liberties to this story.

* * *

It was in the early morning hours when Agent Phil Coulson woke with a strangled cry, flinging himself bolt upright. He was gasping for breath as his wide blue eyes scanned the darkened bedroom wildly, searching for the hidden danger and finding nothing.

Clenching his eyes shut, he flopped back down, ignoring the way his sweat soaked sheets felt against his skin.

It took several minutes, longer than he'd really care to admit, for him to calm his rapid heartbeat, forcing himself to take deep breaths while he ran his fingertips over the ugly scar on his chest soothingly and trying to block out the memory of how he attained his little souvenir from the crazed, psychopathic Asgardian, Loki.

He'd been having dreams lately, ever since the invasion, of Him and dying and electric shocks so powerful they ripped him from the afterlife only to force him back into his decaying body...though he supposed any of these would be enough to give anyone nightmares.

Coulson ran a hand over his tired face and through his thinning brown hair, wiping away the sweat that still lingered on his forehead. It was barely even dawn, too early for him to be getting up just yet, but he knew he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep. Not after that.

Disentangling the sheets from his legs, he levered himself out of bed with a soft groan, the tender skin along his scar pulling uncomfortably as he sat up again. He stood stiffly, his joints popping and creaking in protest and making him feel entirely too old.

He winced as he shuffled through his quiet apartment, swiping up the small brown bottle of pain meds from the top of his dresser as he passed. By the time he reached the kitchen and set his coffee pot to brew he had already popped a couple into his mouth, swallowing them down dry. He only had a few more doses left, but that was alright. He rarely even needed them anymore.

As the coffee brewed, Coulson quickly settled on a small package of Little Debbie donuts for his breakfast. Not the most healthy thing, he knew, but he just couldn't resist their sugary goodness.

Steaming mug in one hand and chocolate frosted donuts in the other, he wondered into the living room and settled down onto an overstuffed couch, his eyes landing on the vintage trading cards spread out carefully on the coffee table before him.

His Captain America cards were near mint. Or had been before Fury decided to smear his blood all over them. At least the Captain himself had signed them as a farewell token to the "deceased" agent.

Coulson idly wondered which would affect their value more: Captain America's signature or his type B- blood now staining them.

"Near mint," he sighed. "Damned one-eyed bastard." Coulson let out a snort of laughter at that. "Oh wait, that's Stark's line."

The agent let out another soft sigh as he leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. Vicodin is one hell of a drug.

He'd be returning to work soon, in a matter of days really, and while he was both eager and relieved to be resuming his SHIELD duties, he couldn't help but be wary. It wasn't the physical aspects of the job that worried him, paperwork isn't exactly laborious, but psychologically speaking...he wasn't so sure.

Coulson frowned at the images floating in his head, from his most recent nightmare and from misplaced memories that just didn't make sense to him.

_Pain lancing through his chest as Loki's spear impaled him. Fury's angry growl. All consuming darkness followed by excruciating light forcing life back into his synapses. Paradise transforming into the grass shacks of Tahiti. Such a magical place. And agony so overwhelming he welcomed death, begged for it..._and on one occasion even attempted it.

He shook his head in exasperation, berating himself for even contemplating taking more time off. Reaching a hand up to rub along the scar, he eyed the trading cards again. No, he needed to go back to work. If only to preserve his own sanity.

Secrets didn't matter.

* * *

His keys jangled in the door lock, turning the tumblers and admitting him entrance into his apartment. But once through and the door shut firmly behind him, Coulson simply slumped against it rubbing a hand over his tired eyes and temples.

His first day back at SHIELD had been a long one with many hours spent being retrained, recertified and reclassified with a higher level of clearance. His marksmanship, he was pleased to find, hadn't deteriorated during his time off and though the doctors had given him a clean bill of health, he had spent much of his training getting tossed around like a ragdoll while he wheezed and panted on the padded floor. His strength and stamina were effectively in the crapper.

He was also, to his surprise, given a new assignment and team.

He had known, realistically, that he wouldn't have any further part in the Avengers Initiative, considering the group believed him to be dead and all, but he couldn't stop a small, small part of him from hoping.

And another from feeling that this new team of his was some sort of consolation prize.

Maybe he really shouldn't have returned to work so soon.

Feeling utterly exhausted, Coulson pushed off from the door, making his way into the kitchen for a bottle of water before wondering out into the living room. But before he could settle down onto one of the couches, the sound of rustling off to his side drew his attention. And with reflexes that would make any agent proud, his gun was drawn and aimed at a spot between familiar green eyes.


	2. Conviction

Disclaimer: I do not own The Avengers or any of the characters thereof, but I do claim the creative liberties to this story.

* * *

"Impressive," Loki said as he stepped forward from out of the darkness, seemingly unfazed by the weapon pointed at him. He spread his arms out wide in a show that he was unarmed, claiming a seat on the couch opposite the agent. "By all means," he began, "fire if it will put yo‒" His head snapped back violently as a loud gunshot rang out.

Several seconds pass in silence before the god finally righted himself, his head coming up to reveal no visible sign of injury, though his poisonous green eyes were narrowed dangerously at the agent.

"I have to admit," Coulson said, his gun still raised, "I was expecting a clone."

Loki tilted his head to the side thoughtfully, his lips slowly twisting into a devious smirk. "In that case, Agent Coulson, I suggest you turn around."

The man did, turning just in time to see a pale, long fingered hand reaching out for him. Their struggle was brief and he was quickly overpowered, he wasn't quite a hundred percent yet and even if he was he'd still be no match for the god. Their first encounter was proof enough of that.

The clone steered him forcefully towards the couch he'd been headed for just moments before where he was shoved down unceremoniously onto the cushions. Coulson sat frozen to the spot, not from fear, no, his training wouldn't allow for that, but from whatever spell Loki's clone had cast on him. And all from a single touch to his shoulder.

His heart was hammering in his chest, and though he could feel a trickle of sweat slide down the back of his neck, his features were schooled into his usual cordial mask. The gun was still in his hand though, lying their uselessly with his finger lingering on the trigger, but the god made no move to disarm him.

"Aren't you supposed to be locked up in Asgard," the agent asked casually.

Loki's smile was slow and dangerous as it spread across his face. "Aren't you supposed to be dead?"

"I was for a time."

"Oh, do tell."

"Eight seconds."

The god made a face, a mixture of disappointment and mock sympathy. "Is that all?"

Coulson shrugged or would have if he could move. "It's possible I was dead for longer."

Loki tilted his head again with that same measured look. "A few days by my estimation."

Coulson didn't reply, merely watched in silence as the god sat forward to gather up the bloodstained cards that had still been spread out on the coffee table and thumbed through them with a disgusted sneer.

"Why are you here," the agent asked firmly.

"We have some business, I believe."

"Do we?"

There was a long pause before Loki finally answered. "I'm here to make amends."

"Amends," Coulson asked, disbelievingly. "For what, trying to take over Earth? For the mental rape of Agent Barton and Eric Selvig? For the eighty plus agents you killed or the thousands more of innocent civilians? Or perhaps for my own murder?"

"The last one," Loki clarified.

Coulson couldn't stop the derisive snort that escaped him. "Did my death _move_ you that much?"

Loki gave a half-hearted shrugged in response. "You died bravely," he admitted.

"You cut my heart in half." He was trying, he really was, to stay collected, but the bitterness that saturated his words was all too evident and the god pulled his eyes away from the cards to focus on the agent sitting across from him. "Do you even know how much I had to give up because of that, how much I lost? Do you even care?"

"Not really, no." He bent the cards in his hand carelessly, ignoring the agent's wince, and released them into the air, letting them spew out in an arch and flutter to the carpet.

"Then why are you here?"

Loki gave a long suffering sigh. "I was sentenced to spend the rest of my life in the dungeons of Asgard for my crimes against Midgard," he began. "However, it seems that our _beloved_ Thor has been learning more and more about your law practices here on this planet, thanks to that woman of his, no doubt. Between him and my mother, Frigga, they have somehow managed to convince the Allfather to commute my sentence. What's that word you mortals use? Ah yes, parole."

"Parole?"

"Yes, I am on parole. And as long as I can play nice with you mortals, I am but a free man."

"Just like that?"

"There are some provisions concerning this newfound leniency of Odin's such as the typical no mischief, murder or mayhem clause that always seems to accompany any of these rulings the Allfather has in my regards, but the most important of which is to make amends with those I've wronged in this realm. A tedious task, but believe you me, Agent Coulson, considering that the alternative is to spend the rest of my life, and we Æsir are so very long lived, locked up in a cell and hidden away like some dirty little secret...well, I would have died of boredom long before I ever died of old age and well after the denizens of this planet have long since forgotten my crimes against them."

"I can tell showing signs of remorse or guilt is not a factor in your parole."

"Indeed. Though no doubt the Allfather believes it will come in time. I do have a lot to atone for after all and it will be a long time before I've finished."

"You'll excuse me if I don't weep over your predicament."

"Of course," the god agreed with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I imagined there would be a few adverse reactions to my release."

"Damn right," Coulson said sternly. "Especially considering you're now in my home and you've already attacked me."

"To be fair, Agent Coulson, you shot me first."

"To be _fair_, you murdered me. How did you even know I was alive anyway?"

"Thor may have watched you die, but it was Heimdall who watched you be revived...and with such cruelty I might add. And my _brother_," he spat, the word dripping with venom, "is nothing but a sentimental fool."

"I'm surprised Thor didn't force you to make up with him as well."

"Oh, but he did," Loki admitted. "We relived our glory of old through song and drink and bonded anew over a long and rather trying hunt." Coulson stared blankly at him making Loki sigh in exasperation. "After everything I've done, that damned oaf still intends to live in the past."

"And now that you're here, how do you plan on appeasing me?"

Loki gave him a mischievous grin. "Oh, I'm certain we can come up with something, Agent Coulson." He sat forward then, resting an arm on a bent knee as he stared critically at the man across from him. "Is there something with which I can tempt you?"

"You could apologize."

"Would you believe me if I did?"

"No, I wouldn't," Coulson admitted with a shake of his head. "Unfortunately, I'll have to decline anything else. Some, myself included, would view this as an attempt at bribery."

"I see," the god said, slowly climbing to his feet and stalking forward, his boots stepping uncaringly over the cards littering the floor. "I can assure you, Agent Coulson, that you don't have a choice in the matter."

"So you're going to force me into letting you atone?"

"The alternative is unacceptable." Loki stood in front of him now as he stared down at him, his green eyes glinting dangerously. "So tell me, Agent Coulson, do I _still_ lack conviction?"

The agent didn't answer, but the grip on his gun tightened. Something that did not go unnoticed by the dark god looming above him.


	3. Pillow Talk

Disclaimer: I do not own The Avengers or any of the characters thereof, but I do claim the creative liberties to this story.

* * *

Loki bent down, bracing a hand on the back of the couch next to the paralyzed agent while he reached down with his other to lift Coulson's hand, still tightly wrapped around the gun. He made no move to unarm him, but instead leveled the gun pointblank at his own pale face.

And oh how Coulson wished he could pull the trigger again, his fingers twitching with the effort to do so.

The god's pointed tongue slipped out to lick at the cold barrel and lingering gunpowder residue, his green eyes sliding shut at the taste of charcoal and sulfur. His tongue continued on, lathing a trail along the hard metal until his tongue found mortal flesh. He opened his eyes then, locking them with blue as he lapped at the agent's wrist, his tongue lingering at the fluttering pulse point. He sucked at the flesh firmly, noting how the pulse spiked, before he bit down hard enough to make Coulson cry out and drop the gun to the floor.

Loki let go of the agent's hand and settled himself down between Coulson's knees, his hands resting on the man's thighs briefly before he shifted to the side, reaching for something on the floor and coming back up with the discarded water bottle the agent had dropped just moments before during his fight with the clone.

He uncapped the bottle and leaned forward, shoving it between the man's lips and letting him drink the icy, cold liquid.

"We wouldn't want you getting dehydrated now would we," the god said in passing as he trailed a free hand down Coulson's chest. "This is going to be a long night after all...perhaps even several."

Coulson spluttered, choking on the water even as the unwanted hand continued to roam over his body. "And this is how you choose to expiate," he asked in disbelief as he felt the god tighten the thin, black tie around his neck a few degrees too tight before undoing the knot completely and discarding it onto the couch beside them. "You can't make up for murder by committing rape."

"You can't rape the willing," Loki countered as he yanked Coulson's white dress shirt open sending several of the small buttons flying. "I did offer you a chance to choose how I would appease you, did I not? You declined, so now _I_ am choosing for you." His head dipped down to the crook of his neck, trailing the tip of his tongue up to the agent's ear and whispered, "though I'm certain I can make this more agreeable for you."

There was a ripple of green-gold light as the god of mischief cast his magic and when the light faded Coulson had to admit he wasn't expecting to come face to face with the spitting image of Captain America, complete with vintage suit and circular shield strapped to his back. And kneeling between his legs.

It would have been comical how fast his mind churned to justify the sudden tightening in his groin if it wasn't actually happening.

"What do you think," the god asked in a confidant voice that could only belonged to one Steve Rogers. "I can just feel the patriotism and righteousness flowing through my veins." He leant forward to nibble the agent's ear again and whispered in a low, husky voice, "care to join me in a rousing course of our national anthem, soldier?"

Coulson's brain had short circuited and he was pretty sure he had just let out a rather embarrassing whine and anyone who knew him even a little bit would understand why. But he forced himself to push passed the gushing fanboy feelings and schooled his features once more.

"I'll have to decline," he said as firmly as possible, but it still came out sounding strained even to his own ears.

And it was just so wrong how lecherous Loki could make the Captain's face look: half lidded blue eyes made dark with desire, full lips parted just enough for a pink tongue to dart out and slide along his bottom lip, a spandex suit that was practically painted on and left absolutely nothing to the imagination...

Coulson was brought out of his musings by a hot, sinful mouth now licking and sucking at the scar on his chest.

The desensitized nerve endings of the newly healed flesh ignited under the god's tongue sending unexpected waves of pleasure coursing through his body making his breath hitch sharply in his throat and his cock pound. It wasn't even a fucking erogenous zone!

Teeth scraped over his skin and the agent was only then aware of how painfully hard he was. He needed to stop this or at the very least make Loki change back. He was fairly certain that if the god did then he would be able to focus again. It was sound reasoning, right?

An incessant voice in the back of his head that sounded annoyingly like Tony Stark's was commenting on how "gay for Captain America" Coulson was. No doubt if the man were here now he'd be taking pictures and videos as proof of that.

The familiar coil in his belly was starting to tighten dangerously as the god between his knees continued to mouth his scar, building his arousal up to fever pitch and setting Coulson on the edge of a panic attack. And Loki hadn't even touched his cock yet! If he didn't stop this soon, he'd be coming in his pants like some adolescent school boy, something he couldn't allow for a number of reasons, pride and embarrassment being only a couple.

He clenched his eyes shut as a powerful wave of pleasure rippled through him, making him grit his teeth together in a bid to stifle the low moan. Coulson's breath was ragged and his arms and legs were trembling, but he still managed to mutter out a weak "stop". In his haze, he was surprised when the god actually complied, pulling his greedy mouth away.

Loki's mouth was suspended a few inches above his skin, just far enough for his unusually cold breath to fan out against his saliva coated scar, sending a shiver down his spine. He could feel the god's gaze on him, but he couldn't bring himself to open his eyes. Not when they'd open to find Steve's desire filled baby blues staring back at him.

"Stop what exactly," Loki asked playfully, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips.

Coulson's voice was rough. "Change back."

Loki's answering snicker was expected, but he was still relieved when a soft flash of green-gold light flickered against his eyelids as the god shape shifted again.

"And here I thought spies were into role-play," the mischief maker said, sounding entirely too smug for the agent's liking.

"I'm not a spy," Coulson corrected, "just an agent."

"There's a difference?"

"As an agent," he began, trying to ignore the oddly soothing petting caresses the god was giving his sides, "my duties include both administrative and fieldwork."

"Such a well-rounded individual you are," the god cooed condescendingly.

"Yes, actually. Being knowledgeable in a variety of topics can be beneficial and SHIELD agents are encouraged to take up hobbies."

"Like Captain America?"

"I've read his military files," Coulson said offhandedly.

"More than that I imagine," Loki said, noticing how the agent's eyes flickered all too briefly to the discarded cards on the floor behind him. "You should never meet your heroes, or so I've heard. Were you disappointed?"

"No, I wasn't," Coulson answered honestly.

"Ah, you're still smitten then. And yet you'd pass up a chance to see the good captain in all of his...glory."

The pregnant pause was a bit much and the agent didn't need to be a genius to figure out what the god meant, and while his breathing may have calmed during their brief exchange, he was still painfully hard and he could have done without the mental image of Steve Rogers wearing nothing but his shield and a smile.

"I'll except no imitations."

Loki's dark eyes glinted maliciously. "Considering the likelihood of you even seeing him again, what with you being 'dead' and all... Though I doubt you'd be as enamored with him if he was still that pathetically frail little weakling he was born as."

"Jealous?" That infuriating smirk stretched across Loki's face again and Coulson longed to slap it off him.

"I'm not the one who's infatuated with some useless relic...or do you still have hope that you'll be reunited with your hero?"

The agent's hand shot up with enough force to make Loki's head lurch to the side with a resounding smack and they both froze at the sudden contact.

He had hit him. Coulson had just _struck_ the god of lies. His blue eyes were wide as they flickered disbelievingly between the god's face and his own hand still raised in the air, not fully comprehending what had actually happened.

"H-how long have I been able to move?"

Loki answered with a low chuckle as he righted himself. "Since the moment you dropped the gun."

There was a beat of silence as the two stared at each other and then, in a blink of an eye, they were struggling again.

And just like before when he fought with the clone, Coulson was overpowered and in just a few pathetic seconds. He hadn't really expected anything different. Loki, being a god, was just naturally stronger than him.

Sprawled out on the couch now with his hands tied uselessly behind his back, Loki haven finally made use of the discarded tie, Coulson stared up at the ceiling, pointedly ignoring the god's heated green-eyed gaze as he tried to steady his breathing again.

Their positions had shifted, but Loki was still between his splayed legs and his pale hands were resting deceivingly gently on his chest, messaging soothing circles into his skin. And despite his vulnerable position Coulson was surprisingly calm, even when he felt a ripple of magic against his skin that left both him and the god poised above him bare.

Long fingered hands trailed down his chest and stomach, carefully avoiding the prominent scar and his demanding cock, until they were on his thighs, alternating between messaging patterns into his sensitive skin or leaving faint scratch marks in the wake of blunt fingernails.

Hiking his leg up into the air, the god's fingertips traced the cleft of his ass and when a slickened finger suddenly breached him the agent sucked in a surprised breath.

"What are you doing," Coulson gasped, forcing himself to focus on more than just the slender digit working its way in and out of him.

"Isn't it obvious?"

"Let me rephrase," he grunted. "In what way is this suppose to make up for you killing me?"

Loki paused, his finger buried knuckle deep. "Is there something you'd like to suggest, Agent Coulson?"

He was calm. Calmer than he had any right to be when his erection was standing so proudly between them. "You're here to appease me," he replied. "So, show me. Prove to me how much you want to atone."

Loki's thin lips slid into a slow, toothy smirk, his head dipping in a slight nod as he straightened and withdrew. Steadying himself with a hand on the back of the couch, his other disappeared behind his back.

Coulson watched the god's face as he fingered and stretched himself, the way Loki's brow knitted and his lips parted in concentration, and felt his own cock twitch in time with Loki's stuttered breaths and soft groans and by the time Loki's hips started humping air, he was leaking.

The agent would admit, albeit grudgingly, that the god was beautiful and he didn't even notice when the god's free hand had moved from the back of the couch to his aching cock until the hand started pumping him, making him buck up into the firm grip helplessly.

Loki moved then, bending at the waist to an impossible angle until his mouth was poised over his straining member and Coulson could feel the puffs of cold air against his heated flesh. But as cold as the god's breath was his mouth was a furnace that made the agent hiss out as he was swallowed down to the root. Loki's already gaunt cheeks hollowed with their effort and Coulson didn't even try to stop the whines and breathy moans that the god managed to suck from him.

The god pulled away with an audible pop leaving his member slick with saliva, ready and waiting.

Loki moved to straddle him, positioning himself over Coulson's cock which he quickly guided to his loosened hole, impaling himself without a moment's hesitation.

Coulson could barely breathe as he watched Loki sink down onto his cock, his member disappearing inch by inch into the god's body. Loki's jaw was slack and his head thrown back exposing the pale column of his vulnerable throat and once he was fully seated the god stilled, both gasping out at the feel of each other's body.

Coulson was tempted to move, to thrust up into the willing body above him, but he doesn't, leaving it up to Loki to set the pace.

Loki rolled his hips as he continued to impale himself on the long cock inside him, groaning as the flared head nudged his prostate. It had been centuries since he had allowed a mortal, or Æsir for that matter, this kind of privilege, to penetrate him, but he won't deny how much he had missed the feel of this. The way his body opened up to the intrusion with a pleasurable burn... He doesn't hesitate in giving himself over as he thrust down on to that hard length again.

Coulson's blue eyes were dark, his pupils nearly full blown with pleasure and his arousal flared as the god continued to move above him. He hadn't even realized he had began to buck up to meet the god's thrusts, his mind was too hazy and their panting too harsh as the air filled with their desperate moans.

Neither lasted much longer, but it was Loki who snapped first, coming with a deep groan as his body clenched down almost viciously and painted Coulson's chest in white. Coulson followed seconds later, filling the god with his seed as his own body went rigid. He doesn't know how he managed it, but he forced his eyes to stay open, taking in every detail of Loki's rapture and only allowing them to close when the god slumped down on top of him in a boneless heap.

His body was tingling, having just had one of the best orgasms in his life as well as the unintentional contact the god had made with his scar. He still doesn't understand it, why his body responded so easily to such a simple touch and he had _never_ considered that piece of scarred flesh to be an erogenous zone. Not when his own fingers, and those of numerous SHIELD doctors, have played across that patch of skin and never once eliciting any kind of tingle. Not until Loki. He was half convinced it's some form of Stockholm syndrome.

Loki shifted suddenly, bringing up a lazy hand to rest his head on as he looked down at the prone agent trapped beneath him. "What shall we do now," he asked in a sultry voice.

"Is this were the pillow talk starts," Coulson sighed.

"Perhaps. I am a _very_ good listener," he teased.

Coulson made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. "You are unbelievable."

"Yes, I am quite remarkable aren't I," Loki said, his smug grin stretching across his face once again.

The agent shook his head in irritation. "I told you stop."

"No," the god answered, his piercing green eyes narrowing, "you told me to change back. And I wonder why... Too _eager_ to see what lies under all that spandex the captain wears?" His eyes wondered over the agent's face as he tilted his head. "Or perhaps you were under the impression that my illusion of Steve Rogers was the sole reason of your enjoyment." Loki's free hand slid across Coulson's stomach and chest so he could tap a finger against the scar.

But Coulson didn't feel the tendrils of pleasure that had lashed through him like before. "Wasn't it?"

"So, naïve," he chuckled lowly.

Loki dipped his head down to slide his thin lips across the raised edges of the prominent scar before latching on to it and sucking firmly. Coulson was hard instantly, bucking up against the god's still soft cock as he gasped out.

Loki gave a surprised, breathy laugh. "I suppose I should have waited till I was ready."

"How are you doing that," Coulson gritted out miserably as he ground his head back against the couch cushions.

"Residual magic," Loki stated simply, his breath whispering over Coulson's skin as he spoke, and at the agent's blank expression he continued. "It seems during our last encounter those few, short months ago, I left behind some trace amounts of my magic. Not much, mind you, but enough for me to locate you...and enough for me to do this." The god licked along the scar again before pulling back to blow a stream of cold air against the agent's skin.

Coulson shivered violently, his body trembling from the sudden cold even as his dick twitched and when he jerked his hips up again he could feel Loki own hardening length and nearly whined as the god moved to straddle him again.

"Did you think I would be so easily satisfied," the god cooed down to him.

"And here I thought we _weren't_ doing this for your own satisfaction," he said, his lips tugging into a soft, strained smile.

A sly grin blossomed on the god's face as his green eyes half lidded. "Oh? Well then that's just one more thing I'll have to make up for isn't it."

Coulson hissed sharply as Loki impaled himself again. This really was going to be a long night.


	4. Eye for an Eye

Disclaimer: I do not own The Avengers or any of the characters thereof, but I do claim the creative liberties to this story.

* * *

The early morning light shone brightly against Coulson's eyes making him throw a careless arm over his face to shield them.

He was back in his bedroom again, having been dragged there by Loki after round two on the couch. But no sooner had he hit the bed than the god pounced again, sucking him to hardness and preparing his body while his mind was lost in the warmth of the god's mouth. He had been flipped over then, his hips cushioned and propped up by pillows, and before he knew what was happening Loki was pressing into him.

He would have fought him off, but his arms and body had felt so heavy he could little more than moan and whine and come so hard he passed out. He still felt tired, but deeply sated and he wasn't quite sure how to feel about that.

Coulson's hand drifted up to the scar on his chest, his fingers lightly trailing over the raised edges, and shivered at the memory of Loki's mouth. He felt the bed shift next to him suddenly and tensed as the god tucked into his side firmly, curling a long pale leg up over his hip as he propped his head on a slender hand. The picture of a seductive pose.

And Coulson's reaction was immediate.

His hands flew to the edge of the sheet that lay bunched up around his groin, barely covering his manhood, and pulled it to his chest, kicking himself internally for the very unmanly shriek that he was fairly certain had come from his own mouth.

Loki's eyes crinkled with laughter and his wide mischievous grin was in danger of devouring his face. "I could help you with that," the god offered, his voice tinged with clear amusement. His free hand snaked its way up under the covers to brush over his half hard cock and flat stomach until he finally reached the prominent scar, letting his fingers trace over its edges. Coulson's breath hitched as a wave of tingles swept over him and settled along his spine.

They laid like that for several minutes, with Coulson sprawled out and motionless save for the slight tremors that ran through his limbs while Loki's long fingers played over his scar. It was oddly soothing, and he didn't like it.

"You can't possible hope to earn my forgiveness like this do you," Coulson asked bitterly.

"Not like this, no," Loki agreed, his laughing green eyes turning dark with thought as the mood shifted.

"Then what possible reason could you have for doing all of this?"

"I needed time," the god answered, his fingers still smoothing over the ugly patch of skin. "Time to figure you out and to decide on how to proceed."

"To figure me out," Coulson echoed. "And have you?"

"I may be the god of lies and chaos, but I am also considered by many to be the god of change."

"Ragnarok."

"Exactly. And in my opinion, dying builds character. I've done it myself a number of times."

The agent's blue eyes narrowed. "Not everyone is capable of reincarnation."

"True enough, but you humans are surprisingly adaptive. And trust someone who knows," the god said emphatically, tapping a finger against the scar. "You're being lied to."

"Everyone lies."

Loki gave a halfhearted shrug, and then he was gone. No puff of green smoke. No crack of magic. Just nothing.

The agent sighed tiredly, letting the tension that had been building up in the god's presence uncoil and drain out from his body. It was too damn early for this crap.

He laid in bed for awhile longer, not quite willing to leave its warmth despite having shared it with his murderer. Eventually though Coulson rolled out of bed carefully, wincing at the lingering burn of stretched muscles that still had his legs feeling rubbery, and limped his way to the bathroom to shower. He stayed under the spray of hot water, letting the pulsing showerhead beat against his skin until the water ran cold. Even then he was reluctant to leave, not quite ready to start his day. He would be leaving soon, departing sometime that afternoon on the Bus, one of SHIELD's state-of-the-art airplanes, and he wasn't sure when he would be able to return to his apartment.

Not that it really mattered. He lost his real home when his death certificate had been signed.

Back in his room Coulson pulled on a blue pinstripe suit. It was one of the few things he had managed to retain from his predeath days and only because it had been on the helicarrier at the time, along with a handful of his other belongings. Everything else was gone, having been left to his mother to sort out and donate. And now she was gone too.

Coulson walked out into the living room as he straightened his tie, pointedly ignoring the couch Loki had fucked him through the night before. He moved to the kitchen for his customary breakfast of coffee and donuts, powdered this time, and hesitated only briefly before returning to the living room to retrieve his gun.

He found it quickly, the gun having somehow made its way onto the coffee table, but what caught his attention was the little black box sitting next to it.

Realistically, he should have called SHIELD the moment Loki had vanished into thin air.

Realistically, he shouldn't have opened the box.

But everyone lies and everyone has secrets and neither stopped him from carefully pulling off the lid and peering inside.

Nestled inside amongst the crisp white tissue paper was a set of Captain America cards and his chest tightened as he pulled them out. They were his, the some ones from before with the slight boxing around the edges and Steve Rogers' very own signature adorning them. But they were unbent and free of any bloodstains.

Near mint.

* * *

The hospital room was quiet save for the solemn beep of the heart monitor. Their resident doctor, Agent Jemma Simmons, moved through the room efficiently, checking over her patient's vitals. There wasn't much she could do though. Skye was dying.

She'd been shot in the stomach twice and it was a miracle she was even still alive, but she was strong. Despite the fact that her vitals were slowly fading.

"I'm sure she'll pull through," Agent Simmons said to the room's other occupant, her British accent gentle and encouraging, but Agent Phil Coulson didn't respond. He stood unmoving in a corner of the room, his blue eyes unfocused and trained on a spot above Skye's bed. Simmons offered him a small sad smile before quietly leaving him to his own thoughts.

It was awhile before Coulson finally moved, taking slow steps until he was standing by her bed. He didn't know how long he stood there watching over her, but he was brought out of his reverie by the sudden presence at his side and he huffed in irritation as Loki bent down over Skye's prone form, poking her cheek with his index finger.

"What are you doing here," he snapped, his patients long since worn thin.

Loki flashed him with a mischievous grin. "I happened to be in the neighborhood, as you mortals say."

"35,000 feet in the air?" The god shrugged, his curious green eyes straying to the heart monitor and IV drip. Coulson ran a hand over his tired face and rolled his shoulders warily. "Loki, it's been a _really_ long day. What do you want?"

"I thought you could do with my assistance."

"She's dying. So unless your _assistance_ comes in the form of healing her, I'm not interested."

"There is a means for everything," the god said offhandedly, instantly catching Coulson's attention.

"If you can save her then do it."

"For what possible reason would I do that?"

"A life for a life."

Loki turned then, his piercing green-eyed gaze locking with Coulson's earnest blue eyes, searching them. "This would settle my debt with you?"

"It would," the agent said adamantly, trying hard to keep to the flicker of hope from his voice.

"Not all lives are equal, and I am not naive enough to believe that restoring hers would fully compensate you for yours."

"Her life is _just_ as important as mine or anyone else's. What makes you so goddamn sure it isn't?"

"Odin has seen fit to bestow upon me a form of allsight," the god said as he raised a hand to his temple to rub away the sudden migraine. "I can look at you and see instantly how your death has effected those around you, like unending ripples in the water. But I cannot see how I am to remedy it."

"Then consider this a start."

Loki cocked his head to side as he considered the man before him. Finally he nodded in agreement, a slow devious smile spreading across his face like poison.

"I've heard good things about T.A.H.I.T.I."

* * *

Director Nicholas Fury was dead.

Or at least that was what he would have everyone believe anyway. Being dead had its advantages after all, even more so considering SHIELD had gone to hell in a handbasket. All courtesy of HYDRA.

There were still people he trusted however, few though they may be, and he already had them set in motion to defeat HYDRA and restore SHIELD. Almost anyway. Coulson and his little team had gone off the radar, but Fury wasn't worried.

Unfortunately, playing dead had its disadvantages too.

Fury rubbed his hands together, warming them by the open fire coming up from the rusty metal barrel he had out in the alley behind his safe house. Cliché maybe, but it certainly helped him look the part of a homeless person. Gone were his signature leather trench coat and eyepatch, replaced instead with a worn leather jacket and hoodie, blackout sunglasses and black knit beanie.

He doubted anyone would recognize him now, or would have if the fucking god of mischief wasn't standing right there in front of him sharing his fire.

"It amazes me how many dead men roam your world, Director."

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Cannot two men share the same fire?"

"Not when one of them is supposed to be imprisoned on another goddamn planet." Loki's impish grin had Fury's hands twitching with the urge to strangle, shoot, disembowel or otherwise mutilate the fallen god. They all seemed like valid options.

"Perhaps we should take this little meeting of ours inside," Loki suggested.

Fury muttered under his breath, but conceded. Starting a street brawl with an alien deity out in broad daylight would pretty much guaranty his cover being blown to straight to hell. He turned, leading the god down the alley to an alcove where he quickly punched a code into a hidden keypad, disengaging the locks to a heavy metal security door.

Loki stepped through first, his sharp eyes sweeping over the desolate interior. The main floor looked to be completely gutted, consisting of only smooth cement floors, brick pillars and an industrial metal staircase that led up to the second floor where Fury had set up camp with a small kitchenette, a military style bunk and a vast array of high-tech computers and equipment. Across the open cavernous of the first floor, Loki could see a row of shiny cars, black stakeout vans and typical government issued SUVs and a wide lift gate garage door. And from behind him Loki could hear the sound of a gun being cocked.

Loki spun around in a slow dramatic turn, his impish grin still firmly in place. The director didn't even hesitate in firing off a round making the god stumble back from the blow, but once again came away unscathed. Loki's green eyes glinted dangerously, but just as he opened his mouth to unleash some snarky little comment, Fury pulled the trigger again and again until the magazine emptied.

"If it didn't work the first time," Loki snapped, "what made you think it would work the next fifteen times?!"

"I didn't," Fury stated calmly. "I just like shooting you."

Loki huffed irritably and echoed the directors soft chuckle with low threatening growl. "So happy to amuse you, Director," he groused.

Fury ejected the spent magazine and slid in a full one, smirking internally as the god watched him cautiously. His .45 pistol might not have broken skin, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt like a bitch. "So, to what do I owe this little impromptu visit of yours," he asked, leading the way to his makeshift office on the second level.

"Atonement," the god said as he claimed a seat on a spare office chair before going into further detail of his parole. By the time Loki had finished the god's eye was twitching in annoyance and Fury was on the verge of unleashing a very uncharacteristic cackle.

"And how exactly do you plan to repay me for the men you killed and my shit you destroyed?"

"You're a reasonable man, Director, though to be clear I'm indebted to you for the destruction of your helicarrier and for the theft of the tesseract."

"You killed over eighty of my agents!"

"For which I owe their families, not you."

Fury's scowl returned full force and even though the dark sunglasses were obscuring the man's eyes, Loki could tell they were narrowed. "And for my helicarrier and the tesseract? What do you owe for that?"

"Not as much as you might think considering your windfall following my defeat. What is the name of that shiny new base of yours? Ah yes, the Triskelion. As for the rest, I do have an idea or two on how I can repay you. Perhaps even one that you will agree to."

The god's appearance shifted then as a green-gold light enveloped him and when the light faded Fury was left staring at a gorgeous, dark-skinned woman. Dressed in a dark midnight green dress that hugged his...her curves, Loki's inky black hair had lengthened and twisted into a luxurious mass of braids and her sharp features had softened. Loki crossed her long legs and folded her arms under her ample breasts, pushing them up more to provide him with a generous view of cleavage.

She was beautiful, Fury would admit, a Nubian princess, but he was far too seasoned a spy to fall prey to a pretty face. Plus his wife would rip his balls off with her bare hands if she ever knew.

In the end he was unimpressed and uninterested.

"As eager as you are to whore yourself out for redemption, you'll have to do better than that with me."

Loki rolled a thin shoulder. "Then you leave me with only one option," she replied in a smoky voice, her vibrant green eyes locking with his. And then she was upon him, flying out of her chair and over the cheap metal desk to tackle him to the floor.

Fury's gun was still in his hand, knowing better than to let his guard down, but before he could take aim his arm was knocked to the side and his hand slammed to the ground hard enough to make him squeeze off an accidental shot.

Loki straddled his chest and dug her knees into his upper arms, pinning them down with her weight as her hand went to his throat and squeezed for a brief, threatening moment. Her other hand came up to his face, ripping away the dark sunglasses and throwing them aside to reveal his eyes, one so dark brown it was almost black and the other milky white.

Loki pressed her fingers to Fury's dead eye, spreading the eyelid wide apart so she could inspect it better. After a moment she let go, only to press the heel of her hand to the milky white eye. Bright golden light flared under her hand, searing into the director's skull with a blinding heat and light that made him thrash and kick out.

And soon the empty building was filling with his screams.


	5. Trust

Disclaimer: I do not own The Avengers or any of the characters thereof, but I do claim the creative liberties to this story.

* * *

"Stupid, stupid, stupid! And cruel! And very stupid!"

The threat from HYDRA had been dealt with and now they were all back on the Bus, flying to the secret bunker Fury had set up for Coulson and what was left of his team. It had been a long day, ending with one of his own being severally injured, currently laying in the plane's infirmary in a coma he might not ever come out of, and another betraying them to HYDRA. But despite all of this, Coulson was still pissed about the T.A.H.I.T.I. project.

Fury collapsed into an armchair with a tired sigh. "I think you've made your point."

"Have I? Clearly I didn't think it was a good idea. I even warned you about the risks involved, about people losing their minds. Why bring me back when you knew what could happen?"

"It was a 'break glass in case of an emergency' situation. You are fine, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am," Coulson answered, sounding exasperated. "But that 'emergency' was supposed to be the fall of an Avenger."

"My point exactly," Fury said as he leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees, "and I'm damn glad I did it, too." He paused, taking a moment to climb to his feet again as he dug a hand into a pocket of his brown leather jacket. "Before it was torn apart, SHIELD was a lot of moving parts and guys like you were the heart." He pulled out a small black cubed and held it out to the other agent. "Now, you'll be the head."

Coulson took the cube, turning it back and forth in his hand curiously. "What is it?"

"Something to help you build it back up."

"You want me to rebuild SHIELD," Coulson asked incredulously.

"From scratch," Fury confirmed. "Look, when you want to build something, you start with a strong foundation. And the principle SHIELD was founded upon was pure: protection. Sometimes to protect one man from himself, other times to protect the planet against an alien invasion. It's a pretty broad job description. And the belief behind that principle is the same, whether it's one man or all of mankind."

"That their worth saving," Coulson supplied.

Fury nodded in agreement. "You know how few people I trust, Coulson."

"You can count them on one hand."

"And I'm not afraid to cut off fingers, either. There's no one else I trust with this. So, take your time and do it right." He slowly made his way to the doorway, turning back to face the newly made director.

"How do you," Coulson shook his head dumbfounded, "how should I proceed, Sir?"

"That's up to you now, Director."

"What about you, what will you be doing?"

"I'll be trading in my bird's eye view for two solid feet on the ground. This will be the last time you see me for awhile."

"You're just going to disappear, nowhere to be found?"

"Nowhere? You know me better than that, Phil," Fury said, pulling down the pair of blackout shades he'd been wearing, revealing two perfect, dark brown eyes. "I'll be everywhere."

The mass of scars over Fury's left eye was still there, but the eye itself had been healed and Coulson knew instantly where Fury's 20/20 vision had come from and the look Fury was giving him said it all.

"He'll be your problem now too, Director. Make good use of him."

* * *

Not long after that, Fury had taken off in a quinjet to god only knew where, leaving Coulson behind to contemplate his next move.

He was in his office, the mysterious black cube sitting idly on top of the desk before him. Coulson still didn't know what the hell it was or how it was supposed to help him. How does someone even go about rebuilding an international spy organization anyway?

SHIELD had been completely fractured, with so many of its agents turning out to be HYDRA spies and the remainder being gunned down by the former. On top of that, he was still technically listed as dead and the few people he trusted outside of his group still believed that. Not to mention he had no idea what to do with the Asgardian mischief maker, and the migraine that was currently throbbing behind his blue eyes was not helping him at all.

A thoughtful hum sounded to his right and a familiar pale hand snaked out to grab hold of the little cube. _Fan-fucking-tastic._

"Loki," he said wearily.

"_Director_ Coulson," the god replied with an amused grin. "What an interesting turn of events."

"Did you know this would happen?"

"Which parts exactly? The fall of your precious SHIELD? Betrayal at the hands of one of your own? Or perhaps you are referring to your new title?"

"Any of it," Coulson said with a careless, halfhearted shrug.

Loki tilted his head to the side. "No. I may be a god, but I am not omniscient."

"You knew about T.A.H.I.T.I.," he accused.

Loki tossed the small cube up into the air, catching it deftly in one hand only to repeat the process a few more times. "Regardless of how much effort your predecessor took in keeping this secret from you, Heimdall sees all."

"Did you know about the side effects?"

"I knew that despite the _care_ they took in reviving you, you still begged for death. Though I imagine you're concerned with more than just suicidal thoughts."

The new director paused, taking a moment to decide on just how much he should divulge as he watched the god continue to toss the black cube into the air. "The GH-325, the serum that was used on myself and Skye, has been known to cause mental deterioration. Madness." They were both fine, but John Garret had gone off the deep end faster than Stark could down a bottle of Jack Daniel's finest.

Loki set the cube back down on the desk and leaned in, whispering seductively. "There is a pleasure in being mad, which none but madmen know."

Coulson blinked in recognition. "John Dryden, nice. While I've been dealing with HYDRA, you've been off reading poetry."

It was Loki's turn to shrug. "Was it not a few days ago that you were singing the merits of having a hobby?"

Coulson shook his head, rubbing at his temples tiredly. His migraine was now _officially_ kicking his ass.

"I am curious," the god began, "as to what the source of your little serum was."

Carding a hand through his thinning hair, Coulson stared up at the god leaning a hip against the edge of his desk. "It was an alien."

Loki cocked a thin eyebrow at that. "Care to be more specific?"

"A blue alien?"

"Well that hardly narrows it down," the god scoffed. "How blue?"

"Loki..." Did he mention it had been a long fucking day?

The mischievous god pushed off from the desk, sidling in closer to the other man and without waiting for permission, pressed an unusually cool hand to Coulson's forehead. A wave of familiar magic swept through him, soothing away his migraine almost immediately.

The agent stared up at the dark god with wide blue eyes. "Why did you do that?"

"For purely selfish reasons I assure you." Loki slid his hand down the side of his mortal's face before curling around the back of his neck, scraping blunt fingernails against his nape. The god tugged him forward then, crushing their lips together in a chaste kiss.

Coulson sighed against the god's mouth, feeling Loki's thin lips quirk into a half smirk in response.

"Missed me have you?"

_Maybe._ "No." Definitely not.

Loki tutted softly, flicking his tongue out to tease along the seam of other man's lips. He hoisted Coulson up out of the chair he'd been occupying and spun them both around, trapping the agent against the edge of the solid oak desk. Their lips met again, Loki's cold, insistent hands stroking up and down the director's sides.

Coulson's own hands had settled on the god's narrow hips, his fingers twitching with the urge to pull the lean body closer and do some exploring of their own, but he resisted. Barely.

His suit jacket was discarded, thrown haphazardly over the arm of the now vacant desk chair, before Loki finally pulled away, his green eyes dark and mischievous.

"Come along, Phillip," the god said as he backed away, tugging playfully on the thin black tie still in place around the director's neck.

Coulson followed along obediently, almost eagerly, not that he'd _ever_ admit that, after the god to his own private quarters on the large plane. "Why is it you always seem to know where the beds are?"

The god chuckled softly, not bothering to offer up an answer as he pushed the other man onto the bed face down, giving a casual wave of his hand and watching as the remainder of his mortal's clothing dissolved in an emerald haze of seiðr.

He knew before the cold air hit his skin what the ripple of magic was for and that, at the very least, he should be protesting this...whatever this was with the fallen god, but with the stress and strain built up from the day's events, Coulson really didn't want to bicker.

"You're unusually quiet tonight," Loki commented as he crawled in after him, shifting so he was straddling the agent's hips.

Coulson harrumphed in response, doing his best to ignore the way Loki's leather clad groin felt as it rubbed against his bare skin. A flash of green light out of the corner of his closed eyes caught his attention, followed by the feel of oil being dribbled onto his back. He tensed, feeling the god's cold hands press into his back, and cast a suspicious glance over his shoulder at the man straddling him.

Loki gave him an impish grin, poking a long, bony finger into his cheek to make him lay his head back down on the pillow before returning his hands to the broad expanse of his back.

The director relaxed slowly as skilled fingers worked over tight muscles and hard knots, the oil heating as it was massaged into his skin and he hummed in appreciation.

"I noticed you healed Fury's eye," the agent stated.

"And?"

"Nothing. Though I'm curious why you didn't proposition him with a little tryst of his own."

"I _did_ offer your predecessor an opportunity for such," Loki admitted, "but he chose to shoot me instead."

"I shot you, too," Coulson pointed out in a pleased purr when Loki kneaded a particular spot on his back.

"Repeatedly."

Coulson blinked his eyes open at that, eyeing the god over his shoulder once again. "You let him shoot you more than once?"

Loki huffed in irritation. "It's not like he asked permission first," he growled.

The director's blue eyes twinkled in amusement as he made a mocking moueing noise in the back of his throat.

Unamused, the god's poisonous green eyes darkened and his fingers dug into tender flesh. "We've been getting along so well together as of late. Let us not fall out now." Loki dragged his blunt nails along the raised edges of the scar tissue on his back, sister to the one on his chest and the entry wound from Loki's attack with the Chitauri spear.

It had been a cleaner wound, not quite as vicious looking, but a good inch or so longer. Being on his back, Coulson often forgot it was there, but as the mad god drew his fingernails along the seam he felt as though he was being impaled all over again as Loki sent a bolt of magic lancing through him. The end result? A sudden orgasm that was equal parts pain and pleasure and so intense it made the room spin and left his limp cock twitching in confusion.

He came down slowly, the blinding white fading from his wide eyes as he felt Loki, still poised above him, stroking up and down his sides, cooing words of encouragement into his ear. The fallen god shifted, grinding his now equally naked form against him before sliding into him with ease. Coulson hadn't even noticed himself being prepared, too consumed with the orgasm that had just been ripped out of him.

Loki shifted again, rolling them over until they were laying on their sides together, spooning. Coulson's back was pulled flush against Loki's chest, his strong pale arms folding around him, locking him in place. A stray hand drifted down to lazily stroke and palm his oversensitive member, bringing it hardness and easily matching the slow, languid pace the god had set.

He was trembling, his limbs twitching uncontrollably, unaware that one of his own hands was now clenched around the god's forearm in a white knuckled death grip. Coulson wasn't sure if he was trying to stop the audacious hand fisting him or encourage it. Either way, the director was more concerned with the fluttering in his chest that was making it difficult to breathe.

It wasn't the scars or some tingly wave of magic Loki was sending through him, but it was unsettling and oddly familiar and the gentle, almost tender thrusts the god was giving was not helping. Coulson shook his head, trying to clear the haze and block out the endearing words the god was still muttering into his ear, but didn't work.

He didn't want this, this slow pace and gentle words. It was far too close to lovemaking and the flutter of emotion was making his chest feel tight.

"Either go faster or stop," Coulson finally snapped, rocked his hips back angrily against the god's and impaling himself harder on the cock lodged inside him. Loki's arm tightened around him and the strong hand stroking him strayed to his hip, forcing him to stop, but he didn't pull out.

"Is something wrong," the god asked in a sex roughened voice laced with confusion.

But the unbridled emotion stuttering in his chest hadn't lessened and Coulson couldn't breathe. "Get off me."

As soon as Loki's arms went lax Coulson bolted out of bed, pointedly ignoring the embarrassing squelching noise as the god's cock slipped out of him. He was breathing hard, verging on hyperventilating, as he paced back and forth, uncaring that he was still naked and rock hard and that the god occupying his bed was in the same condition.

"You don't get to do that," he said as he stalked from one side of the room to the other, shaking his head angrily. "Sex is one thing, but that," he said pointing to the bed, "that is unacceptable."

Loki shifted on the bed uncertainly, his face a blank mask. "Would you prefer it if I left?"

Coulson stopped mid step, raising a hand up to before the other man made to get up. "No, stay," he demanded. He forced himself to take a deep, calming breath, settling his hand on his hips.

Something was changing between them, but he wasn't sure what or if he should even allow it.

Blue eyes met green and Coulson made his decision, taking a slow, tentative step forward. He reached out a hand, pulling the god closer and pressed their lips together in a gentle kiss that he easily deepened, fisting a hand in inky black hair.

The director pulled back. "Hands and knees, now," he commanded, noticed the shiver of excitement that ran up Loki's spine and the pleased glimmer in his bright green eyes.

A moment later Loki was in position, his ass raised in the air. Coulson was mildly surprised, he hadn't thought the god would actually comply with the demand and certainly not as eagerly. He slid in behind the pale, long limbed body cautiously, half believing it was some sort of trap even as his cock throb with anticipation.

"Where's the oil?"

"Don't waste time, Phillip," the god said. "Fuck me."

This was different, definitely different. While he might not have said no those previous times, Coulson didn't exactly encourage it either. And this...this was active participation.

Still, he guided the flared head of his erection to Loki's unprepared entrance, pressing in slowly. He had meant to give the god time to adjust, but Loki's body had sucked him hungrily, down to the root, and by the time he was fully seated, Coulson was gasping for breath and Loki was all but purring. His pace was uneven at first, but he leveled out quickly, his fingers digging into to alabaster skin so hard that he was certain there would be bruises.

Loki rolled his hips, taking him in deeper and making him rub against the god's prostate hard enough to make him cry out his given name, and damn if that didn't make the flutter in his chest return full force.

Coulson huffed in exasperation, his fingers digging in even more.

The god shifted under him, bracing himself on a forearm while his free hand disappeared between his thighs. Coulson batted it away instantly, replacing it with one of his own as he began fisting the god's neglected cock, silently enjoying the way it pulsed and twitched in his strong grip and the god's needy little moans.

Loki came first, crying out and spilling over the agent's fist as Coulson bit down on a pale shoulder, empting deep inside the god's willing body. Breathing hard, Coulson pulled out carefully before allowing himself to flop down onto the bed in a boneless heap.

He blinked up at the ceiling, feeling Loki's gaze on him, and he turned his head. The god's expression was unreadable, but it made the flutter in his chest twist and grow. Whatever it was, Loki must have seen, his thin lips tugging down before his mask slid into place again.

Loki sat up slowly, moving to get out bed, but Coulson's hand shot out, stopping him. The dark god stilled, and at the agent's gentle coaxing, let himself be pulled back into bed. Coulson wrapped an arm around his back, pleased to feel the other man practically melt against his side as he fell asleep.

* * *

He awoke, hard and needy and with a salacious moan on his lips. His brain was still hazy, but he was acutely aware of the greedy mouth and hot tongue sucking and licking at the prominent scar on his chest and inky black hair framing his view.

Coulson doesn't panic this time, for which his oddly grateful, but he does berate himself internally for accepting this arrangement so easily.

An instant later and Loki is straddling him, a pale hand braced atop the scar was just mouthing while the other curls around their hard cocks, fisting them together.

Coulson admits his own hand to the act, lacing their fingers together and bucking up into their joined fists.

Loki was staring down at him, his green eyes half lidded and so dark they were nearly black.

And this time its Coulson who comes first, spilling over their joined hands and bucking up against Loki's length, sending him over the edge as well. Loki's arm gives out under the force of his orgasm and he collapses atop Coulson's chest, their hands pinned between them their bodies, still clasped together around their sated cocks.

Loki untangles their hands, shifting slightly and settled against his side once more. His long fingers played over his skin, painting patterns in his flesh with their blended and cooling spunk.

"I've been meaning to thank you," Coulson says quietly. "For helping Skye."

"Despite the possibility of her going insane, you mean."

"If she...if _we_ were going to go mad, then we would have by now."

Loki hums noncommittally, his fingers still playing their spend.

"Which is why I have a proposition for you. How would you feel about becoming a consultant for SHIELD?"

Loki gave a low, throaty chuckle. "Oh you must be truly desperate if you're asking for my help."

"I need people I can trust."

An almost disappointed look crossed the god's face and he rolled his eyes. "Who'd have thought your trust was so easily gained, and after only making you come but a handful of times."

"It'll take more than fucking me through my mattress to win me over, Loki."

The god's eyes glittered with approval at that. "Well said, Director."

"And as for trust," Coulson continued, " I trust you to do what's in your best interest and, for the time being, that is continuing on with your probation. You said yourself that you didn't know how to go about this. Or are you so full of yourself that you think everything can be solved with your cock?"

"Who said it had to be my cock?"

"Loki," Coulson warned.

"I accept."

Coulson blinked, stunned. "What?"

"I said I accept," he repeated, leaning down to press a kiss to Coulson's slack jaw. "But before that, I have one more token of apology to give you." Loki draws his lips up to slide against the agent's. He pulled back slightly, his brow knitting together curiously. "Aren't you going to answer that?"

Coulson jerked suddenly as his cell phone blared to life off to the side, having lain forgotten in the pocket of his pants. He lets out a breath, realizing then that the fallen god had disappeared in that split second he had been distracted.

Shaking his head, Coulson quickly slid out of his warm bed to root through his neatly folded clothing on the floor and fish out his phone. He sat back down on the bed, swiping a finger along the screen to answer the call, the caller ID coming up as unknown.

"Hello?"

"Agent Coulson?"

His eyes widened with recognition. Audrey Nathan, the cellist.

And its only then that he realizes what that uneasy flutter in his chest was from the night before.

Goodbye.

* * *

A/N: Right now I'm at a crossroads with this story and I'll tell you why. If I stick with my original plan, this will be the last chapter of Near Mint and I would move on with Part 2 of the Atonement Series. From the start, I had intended on this story being rather short (as well as the future stories in this series), which meant that everything needed to happen rather quickly.

But, I'm really digging this pairing and I'm considering continuing on with Near Mint and dropping the rest of the series. It would still progress with what I had in mind for the series, but I would be sticking with the Loki/Coulson pairing.

I don't know, so I'd like some input on which direction I should take. Either way, the Black Widow will be next up to make an appearance.


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